


Dazed and Confused

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Coma, Community: mcsheplets, First Kiss, M/M, POV Multiple, Prompt Fill, Sickfic, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 23:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11702283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: John's pretty sure he's just got a case of the flu, but things quickly go from feeling tired to kissing Rodney to being in a coma. So...probablynotthe flu.





	Dazed and Confused

**Author's Note:**

> McSheplets Prompt #260: Nap
> 
> Fills the coma square on h/c bingo and the hurt/comfort square on trope bingo.

Teyla swept John’s feet out from under him and stood over his prone body, frowning, bantos sticks in hand.

“That was very poorly executed, even for you. Are you still unwell?”

John’s expression was rueful but he made no move to regain his feet. “Just having a hard time shaking this flu.”

“Perhaps you should see Dr. Beckett.” Teyla knew that the flu was an Earther sickness that brought aching joints and fever. John had been struggling with it for weeks, but it seemed to be getting worse instead of better.

John waved off her concerns, as he often did to his own detriment. “He’ll tell me to drink liquids and get more rest. I just need to ride it out.”

Teyla gave him a hand up, and used their brief close proximity to take a closer look at his face. His skin was slightly flushed, his eyes a little glassy. 

“You should take your own advice,” she said. “Some sleep might help.”

John returned his bantos sticks to the wall-mounted case and made a show of stretching. To Teyla’s eyes he looked tired, and lacking in his usual vitality.

“Yeah. I could probably do with a nap.”

“Go. I will stop by later with some juice and something for you to eat.”

John ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, which Teyla knew meant he was embarrassed. He was a man who did not like to be fussed over.

“Thanks.”

Teyla watched him leave, feeling disquieted though she could not say why.

*o*o*o*

The first wrong thing was Sheppard only just rolling out of bed when Ronon came to pick him up for their morning jog. He opened his door, hair squashed flat on one side and creases on his face from his pillow.

“That time already?” he mumbled. “Gimme a sec.”

The door slid shut and Ronon waited in the hall, doing his stretches and wondering what was wrong with Sheppard. He was usually an early riser, ready and waiting when Ronon arrived. 

When Sheppard re-appeared he was dressed for jogging, except his shirt was on inside out. Ronon remembered what Teyla has said, about him still being sick.

The second wrong thing was Sheppard stumbling and almost falling over when he did his warm-up stretches.

“You sure you’re up for this today?” Ronon asked, steadying him with one hand.

“I’m good,” Sheppard insisted. He took off down the hall and, after a moment’s hesitation, Ronon followed.

Running outside in the fresh air and sea breeze seemed to help clear Sheppard’s head, and they ran in companionable silence for a while. Ronon much preferred running with a partner, though not everyone was comfortable keeping their mouth shut. Cadman in particular talked about anything and everything on the rare occasions she joined Ronon for a circuit around the city. It was a wonder she didn’t pass out from oxygen deprivation.

The third wrong thing was Sheppard stopping abruptly and shaking his head. “Wait. I need to…where’s the thing?”

Ronon didn’t like what he saw when he looked at Sheppard. His eyes were unfocused and he looked as confused as he sounded.

“What thing?”

“Don’t I have to…huh.” He shook his head again, as if trying to jar his errant thought loose. “Sorry. Must still be tired.”

“You should lie down,” Ronon agreed. 

He didn’t think it would be good to jog back, not with Sheppard in the shape he was in, so he insisted that they walk to the nearest transporter. The fact that Sheppard didn’t argue about it told Ronon more than enough about his health.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said apologetically. “When I get over this flu I’ll give you more of a run for your money.”

“Keep telling yourself that, old man.”

Ronon walked Sheppard back to his room but there were no further incidents, though Sheppard looked completely exhausted by the time they got there. Sleep was definitely a good idea. 

“I’ll be better tomorrow,” Sheppard promised before they parted ways.

Ronon wasn’t so sure. He headed out to find Teyla. Maybe there was an Athosian remedy that could be brewed for Sheppard.

*o*o*o*

_Dr. McKay, you’re needed in Colonel Sheppard’s office._

Rodney frowned. Why was Major Lorne calling him?

“Whatever it is, it can wait. I’m right in the middle of –”

_Sir, it’s extremely urgent._

That didn’t sound good, and suddenly Rodney was worried. Why did Lorne want him to go to Sheppard’s office? Had something happened?

“I’m on my way.”

Rodney could easily think of ten things right off the top of his head that could be wrong with Sheppard, all of them incredibly dire. Brain fever, guess number seven, seemed to be the right one.

“Rodney! Call the sink!”

“He’s been like this for the last ten minutes,” Lorne explained. “He keeps asking for you.”

Sheppard was aggressively pacing, his movements jerky and bordering on uncoordinated; hell and gone from his usual lean grace. “The empire is blossoming!”

“Why the hell did you call me and not Carson?” Rodney found it hard to take his eyes off Sheppard long enough to favor Lorne with the withering glare he so richly deserved.

“You know how he is,” the Major said.

And yes, Rodney did know. Sheppard didn’t like displaying any weakness, perceived or actual. As a team, he, Ronon and Teyla did their best to shield Sheppard when things went wrong offworld. There had been unfortunate drunkenness, embarrassing body paint, and injuries to delicate areas. But this was something else.

“Sheppard. Hey. What’s going on with you?”

He clutched at Rodney’s arm, his expression intensely serious. “Rodney. Calamitous.”

“No kidding. Major, we need to… _mmph_!”

Sheppard leaned in and kissed Rodney, his aim a little off. There wasn’t a chance to process that – push him away, for example, or perhaps, hypothetically, kiss him back with intent – before Sheppard sagged against him, almost pulling them both to the floor. Major Lorne was there in an instant, taking hold of Sheppard under the arms.

Rodney immediately thumbed his ear piece. “Carson, bring a team to Sheppard’s office. It’s an emergency.”

_On our way. What’s happened?_

“I don’t know. Sheppard was talking crazy, and then he fainted.”

_Crazy in what way?_

“He was stringing words together that didn’t make sense. I don’t know. You’re the doctor, for goodness sake. But something’s really wrong with him.” Rodney’s heart was racing. Not a good time for a panic attack, he chastised himself.

Lorne lowered Sheppard to the floor. He pulled off his uniform jacket and used it to pillow Sheppard’s head.

“Is he breathing?”

Lorne nodded. “He’s out cold, though. This isn’t just a faint.”

“Good. That’s good. Uh, Major?”

“I’m sure the kiss isn’t medically relevant, Dr. McKay. I won’t mention it.”

Rodney let out a relieved breath. DADT had never been part of the Atlantis expedition, which meant it wouldn’t affect Sheppard’s career, but that kiss was clearly part of whatever weird thing was happening in the man’s brain. The question of sexuality had never come up but Rodney assumed Sheppard was straight. In either case, he wouldn’t appreciate having that kiss blabbed throughout the city, especially to his Marines.

In the next minute Carson and his team arrived with a gurney and Rodney had to step out with Major Lorne because there wasn’t room for all of them in the tiny closet Sheppard called an office.

“He’ll be okay,” Lorne said. “The Colonel always lands on his feet.”

Rodney wished he shared the Major’s certainty.

*o*o*o*

Colonel Sheppard was in a coma and his whole team was in Carson’s office looking for answers. Or, in Rodney’s case, someone to blame.

“He had to have come in contact with someone or something,” Rodney insisted. “He didn’t spontaneously develop a coma-inducing flu. Did you even graduate medical school?”

Carson tried not to lose his temper. He knew Rodney was worried, knew he and the Colonel were best of friends, and lashing out in anger was his coping mechanism.

“I’ve tested everyone in the city,” Carson said. Again. “No-one else is presenting with the Colonel’s symptoms. Honestly, if I didn’t know better I’d say he was suffering from Trypanosomiasis.”

Rodney looked horrified and Carson only felt a little guilty for using an incomprehensible medical term.

“That sounds fatal. Is that fatal?” Rodney looked over at the bed Colonel Sheppard was resting in, looking for all the world as if he were merely taking a wee nap.

“It’s better known as Sleeping Sickness and yes, if untreated it can be fatal.” Carson held up his hand to forestall Rodney’s question. “He doesn’t have that, so treating him for it wouldn’t be beneficial.”

“How does one contract this sickness?” Teyla asked.

“It comes from the bite of a tsetse fly. Among other things it can cause loss of muscle control, disorientation, and altered sleep cycles.”

“Is that not what John has been displaying?”

“It’s not so easy as that,” Carson tried to explain. “The animal and insect life in this galaxy has proven quite different to what we have on Earth. Not only is it very unlikely that there would be tsetse flies here, I have no record of the Colonel coming back from any recent offworld missions with insect bites.”

“How recent?” Rodney demanded. “Because this thing could have a long gestation period and –”

“Six months, Rodney.”

“Oh.”

Carson wished he could tell Rodney something good about the Colonel’s prognosis. “I’ve been able to stabilize him, but the broad spectrum antibiotics I have him on are only a stop-gap. If we don’t discover the cause of his illness the neurological damage could be severe.”

“We should go through the mission reports,” Ronon suggested. “Maybe it was something he ate.”

“Then we’d all be sick!” Rodney snapped. Teyla put her hand on his arm.

“Rodney. It is a good idea, and will give us something productive to do.”

Carson nodded his agreement. “You never know when something will jog your memory.”

“Fine. Mission reports it is. But first I need to check in with Zelenka, see if he’s making any progress.”

Radek had been tasked with reviewing the security logs, tracking the Colonel’s movements to make sure he hadn’t come into contact with anything in the city that might have caused his illness. Carson’s secret fear was that the nanites hadn’t been completely destroyed.

“In the meantime, I’ll try to hurry those blood tests along.”

“You’ll call me? If anything changes?” 

Carson put a comforting hand on Rodney’s shoulder. The man could be irascible and hard to deal with at times, but he had a big heart hiding under that prickly outer shell.

“I’ll notify you straight away.”

Colonel Sheppard’s team left the infirmary together, and Carson took a moment to be grateful that Rodney would be well looked after.

“Marie! Let’s get set-up for a lumbar puncture, and see if we can’t run this wee beastie to ground.”

*o*o*o*

Gabby secured her TAC vest with shaking hands. She was accustomed to testing samples that had been brought back to the lab, not going offworld herself to collect them. Bad things happened on the other side of the Gate. The _Wraith_ were on the other side of the Gate.

“This is wrong. I don’t like it.” Dr. McKay was grumbling as he checked his own vest, patting down the pockets. Unlike Gabby, who had a pistol strapped to her leg, he was armed with both a pistol _and_ a P-90.

Ronon clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, McKay. I got your back.”

Instead of the snappish retort Gabby was expecting, Dr. McKay patted Ronon’s hand and looked almost grateful.

Dr. McKay was a hard man to pin down. She’d been familiar with his reputation while she was still at Cheyenne Mountain, of course: the arrogant, heartless man who had been ready to let Teal’c die and had electrocuted Colonel Carter. The genius with a bad attitude and a fear of lemons.

As with all things Atlantis, Gabby’s assumptions had been turned on their head. Yes, Dr. McKay could be cantankerous; he was a perfectionist and he expected everyone to do their best work. But he was also on a first reconnaissance team, which seemed inadvisable considering he was CSO, and was the highest-rated member of the science team at the shooting range. Gabby had seen him with his team members, laughing and smiling, and with Colonel Sheppard racing cars down the hallway.

“Listen up,” Major Lorne said. Gabby snapped to attention. “Teyla will take the lead here. We don’t want to accuse the Felan or jeopardize our alliance with them. Dr. Espinoza, you need to focus on water samples. See if you can isolate whatever it is that’s making the Colonel sick.”

Gabby nodded. She had her kit slung across her chest.

“Dr. McKay.” The Major gave him a look.

“I know, I know. Keep my mouth shut and let Teyla do her thing. I’m telling you right now, Major, that if they intentionally poisoned Sheppard in some way…”

“I feel certain they did not,” Teyla said disapprovingly. “If we start with accusations we will not get the answers we need.”

“Yeah we will,” Ronon said under his breath.

Gabby quickly looked away from the big Satedan. He could be a pretty intimidating guy, though he had a really nice smile. She had a feeling that he’d back Dr. McKay’s play if the Felan showed any signs of malice aforethought. She hoped for their sake they hadn’t.

“In and out, and we stay together. No-one wander off on their own.”

Everyone nodded and Major Lorne gave Chuck a thumbs up.

“Stay safe,” Dr. Weir called from the balcony overlooking the Gate. “No unnecessary risk taking.”

Chuck dialed the gate and the wormhole _whooshed_ in. Gabby’s stomach was in knots. What if there were Wraith on P44-K98? What if they were right now culling the Felan? What if…

“All will be well,” Teyla said softly, coming to stand next to Gabby. “We will watch out for you.”

Gabby let out a shaky breath and made the sign of the cross. “I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”

Teyla stayed with Gabby as they stepped through the event horizon, and caught her elbow when they came out the other side and she stumbled just a little. And then it was all business. Major Lorne took point with Teyla, Ronon and Dr. McKay brought up the rear, and Gabby stayed sandwiched in the middle.

Now that she’d traveled through the Gate and arrived safely on the other side, not a Wraith in sight, Gabby felt steadier. She had a job to do and she was confident in her ability to do it.

Teyla was very confident, too. Gabby never had the opportunity to witness her in mission mode and she was impressed. Teyla was very deferential when they reached the Felan settlement, making it very clear that Atlantis didn’t blame them for Colonel Sheppard’s illness and expressing her hope that the Felan could assist in finding the cause.

“We were hoping your Colonel would not be afflicted,” the chieftain said.

Gabby looked back at Dr. McKay, saw his face was getting red. It was the worst case scenario after all. The Felan had known.

“You are familiar with this illness?” Teyla asked, after exchanging a quick glance with Ronon.

“It is a childhood sickness amongst our people,” the chieftain explained. “That is why we gave you the Drunkard’s Blossom.”

Dr. McKay had to walk away once he learned that the Felan had gifted them with the cure for Colonel Sheppard’s illness during their initial visit, grumbling about Dr. Parrish and the greenhouse. There must’ve been a communication breakdown somewhere along the line.

The team split up after that. Ronon and Dr. McKay accompanied Gabby to the local water source so she could run her tests and collect additional samples to bring back to the city. Teyla and Major Lorne stayed behind to learn how the Felan prepared the Drunkard’s Blossom as a cure for the illness.

“How did we miss this?” Dr. McKay asked, pacing back and forth along the bank of the small stream.

“It was the sun wine.” Ronon sat a few feet away from Gabby, sharpening one of the many knives he seemed to carry on his person. “That’s why Sheppard didn’t drink it.”

“Then how did _he_ miss it?”

Ronon shrugged. “Too busy making sure we didn’t make idiots of ourselves.”

Dr. McKay kicked a rock into the stream. “Are you done yet, Espinoza? We’ll have the cure, we don’t need the cause of it.”

“Respectfully, Dr. McKay, we still need to classify the source of the illness. If Colonel Sheppard ingested it, it’s likely a microbe. There’s no telling what we might learn by studying it, and how the Felan’s cure affects it. There could be significant medical applications.”

“The cure for cancer?” 

Dr. McKay sounded disdainful, but Gabby didn’t pay him any mind. She ran a few drops of stream water through the digital scanner, which immediately started to beep. She’d definitely found something.

“Anything’s possible, Dr. McKay.” The whole reason Gabby had come to Atlantis was to make discoveries in a new galaxy that could improve people’s lives in the old one.

“Teyla’s ready,” Ronon said. 

“Me, too.” Gabby packed up her samples and the scanner. “I have everything I need.”

Dr. McKay was already walking away. “I hope we’re not too late.”

*o*o*o*

John had the sense of being tethered, but it was vague, hazy, distant. He knew he was in the infirmary. Words would occasionally trickle through the fog he floated in: bacterial, coma, moron.

Had anyone ever slipped into a coma from the flu? John wasn't sure. He remembered being confused, muddled. Feverish. He remembered trying to talk but the words kept coming out all wrong.

He'd kissed Rodney.

John didn't know what was wrong with him. He'd never have done that, never have acted on the feelings he'd been trying to suppress since the early days of the expedition. There were a million reasons why hooking up with Rodney was a bad idea.

But...Rodney filled an empty space that John had mostly been ignoring in himself. He was smart and good looking and incredibly prickly. There was nothing easy about Rodney, but that hadn't dampened John's feelings for him at all.

The fog shifted, thinned, and John became aware that someone was holding his hand. That was new. He'd had visitors in the past when he'd been laid up in the infirmary; his team always stayed until Carson threw them out. But no-one had ever held his hand. And with that point of contact the world beyond the fog solidified a bit more. He could feel the IV taped to the back of his hand, and the pulse oximeter on his finger.

_...easy..._

John struggled to hear who was talking to him, what they were saying. It was like the fog filled his ears as much as it covered his eyes.

_...stupid...Parrish had it...greenhouse...wine..._

Rodney. Good chance he wasn't too mad about the kiss, then. John listened to what words came through the fog, and enjoyed the feel of his hand in Rodney's. The man had amazing hands, so deft at the smallest job in the most inaccessible consoles. John had seen them fly across a keyboard with amazing speed, and wrap around the grip of his handgun with increasing confidence. There were callouses on his fingers. 

_...work...worried us...brainless idiots...new protocols..._

John let the rise and fall of Rodney’s voice wash over him, the cadences of his speech more important than what was being said. At least until he felt Rodney’s breath on his ear. Was he leaning in? Telling John something confidential? The fog thinned even more.

_…hear me? I just want you to know, Major Lorne won’t say anything. About you kissing me. And neither will I. I’m sure it was just part of your whole brain fever thing. It probably doesn’t mean anything that you were asking for me. You’re the Atlantis version of Captain Kirk. You probably won’t remember it anyway._

Rodney had inadvertently given John an out. He could either claim amnesia, or blame it on the Pegasus flu. It would be easy. But Rodney’s hand was warm and he seemed anxious about what had happened. He was right. John had called for him, had tried to explain that things inside his head were wrong. That had been relatively easy, since he couldn’t string a coherent sentence together. Kissing Rodney had been the act of a desperate man, one who was afraid he’d missed out on something really good.

There were a million reasons why hooking up with Rodney could be the best thing John ever did.

John started to actively struggle against the fog. He clung to the sensation of Rodney’s hand, and the IV, and the pillow under his head. He willed his body to feel everything, to push back against the weird semi-comatose state he seemed to inhabit.

He felt his fingers curl around Rodney’s hand, heard Rodney’s surprised indrawn breath. John tried to wet his lips but his mouth was too dry.

“Spock,” he whispered.

“Oh, no! The treatment didn’t work!”

Rodney tried to stand up, presumably to get Carson, but John tugged on his hand and cracked open one eye. The lights had thankfully been dimmed.

“If I’m Kirk, you’re Spock,” he clarified.

“I’m…what? What are you talking about?”

John managed to open both eyes and he blinked at Rodney. The head of the bed had been elevated, so he wasn’t flat on his back. “I remember.”

It was kind of fascinating, watching the different emotions that crossed Rodney’s face in such a short period of time. For a second John was worried he might have to call Carson himself because Rodney was having a heart attack.

“Gay Kirk?” he finally asked, and there was no mistaking the hopeful note in his voice.

“Space husbands,” John replied. 

Rodney’s face flushed, but he didn’t let go of John’s hand. “You know that’s not what they mean by _coming out_ of a coma.”

John tried to shrug but he wasn’t sure he managed it. He was exhausted. “Be here later?” he asked, his eyelids already drooping.

“You’re taking a nap? Now? You’ve been sleeping for three days!” Rodney tried to look angry but he couldn’t pull it off. Instead he squeezed John’s hand and ran his thumb over John’s knuckles. “I’ll be here.”

John tried to say ‘good’, or maybe ‘thank you’. Possibly he meant to promise better kisses in the future, but he drifted off to sleep before he could get the words out. He knew Rodney would understand.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** So this fic just kind of fell out of me all at once. I looked at the McSheplets prompt and thought, what could I do? Tired daddy napping? That would be cute. Or what if it was sick napping, like Sleeping Sickness sick? Even better! LOL! Somehow the multiple POVs just kind of happened. I didn't actively plan that.


End file.
